Blood Bonds: Blood Bonds Series: 4
by trystan830
Summary: What happens when Daddy’s Little Soldier is now on the supernatural side of things?  please read  RUTHLESS GAME first!


**Title: **Blood Bonds  
**Author: **Trystan  
**Rating: Adult; M**  
**Category: **Alternate Universe/Mayaverse  
** Characters:** the Winchesters (Dean, Sam, John); and some originals. (credits at the end)  
** Pairing: **Dean/various OFCs  
** Spoilers**: my fics, Chosen, Deceiving Evil, and Ruthless Game; spoilers for Skin, Scarecrow, Faith, Route 666, Nightmare, The Benders  
** Author's Notes:** DeanAngst; I'd told myself no more AUs, especially of this kind, but I went there anyway. Don't hurt me. Also, I've given John Winchester a black pick-up. I have no way to know if this is right... Beta-read by Lady Aurora and Athena, title by Athena.  
** Summary: **What happens when Daddy's Little Soldier is now on the supernatural side of things?

_**Blood Bonds**_

This pain  
Inside  
Unreal  
Yet I can't deny it  
The hurt  
Inside  
I feel  
I want to deny it  
It's unfair to you  
It's unfair to me  
I want to cry out with my rage  
…yet I can't deny it  
This change  
Inside  
So wrong  
Yet I can't deny it  
The hunger  
Inside  
It's real  
I want to deny it  
It's unfair to you  
It's unfair to me  
I want to cry out with my rage  
…but I can't deny it  
These thoughts  
Inside  
I want to scream  
And deny it!  
"Can't Deny It," Screaming Guitars

* * *

PLEASE READ **RUTHLESS GAME **FIRST!

* * *

He sat in the chair in the corner of the hotel room, staring into the dark, not really seeing anything. He felt miserable, yet he'd never been better in his entire life. He'd always been physically fit, his job fighting demons, spirits, ghosts and other supernatural evil demanded he be lithe, agile, and strong. And now, he was stronger, more graceful; he could move faster than the human eye could see. Also now, he was one of the supernatural evil he'd fought for so long. 

Dean Winchester was a vampire.

Sam stirred in the bed across the room from Dean, and propped himself up on his elbow and looked in the direction of the chair.

"Quit staring at me, you're creeping me out," Sam said, his eyes finally becoming accustomed to the dark, and seeing the outline of his brother. Dean was quiet.

"You feed tonight?" Sam asked.

"Some blonde from the bar down the street. Won't remember a thing in the morning."

"You didn't – " Sam was concerned his brother might get careless and kill someone.

"Nah, I didn't take that much." Dean spoke softly, but it somehow seemed louder in the dark.

Sam sat up completely in the bed, glanced at the empty bed, and then at his brother.

"I'm fine, Dean, you don't have to keep vigil over there."

"I'm not." There was a catch in his voice that Sam heard.

"You're worried about Dad." It was a statement, but Dean was quiet again. Sam fell back onto the bed, his head hitting the pillow. John Winchester had called Sam to tell him that he had some information on the demon that had killed Mary, and he needed to meet them soon.

* * *

_It was just about dusk when Dean's cell phone rang. Sam had been surfing online in the darkened motel room, and grabbed the phone before Dean could stir. The past few days had been trying, and Sam was sure that Dean was looking at his brother like Sam might be Dean's next snack. No way, that was just wrong, Sam thought._

_Unfortunately, the ring of the phone caused Dean to stir, surfacing from under the covers he slept under to add to the total darkness. It was about the time of day Dean started waking up these last few odd days._

"_Dad?" Sam had said after flipping open the cell phone._

"_Sam? We need to meet," John Winchester said in his no-nonsense fashion. "I can be at your motel in two days."_

"_That night would be better for us" Sam said, knowing that a daytime meeting would not work very well for Dean. Not anymore._

"_I'll be there in the early afternoon. I'm leaving here now," John said, his voice stern._

_Dean had sat up groggily in bed, a pained expression marring his features. Dean was not ready to face his father. Not like this, anyway._

"_We'll meet you after dinner," Sam was saying. For once, Dean had no desire to talk on the phone._

_John was silent for a moment. "You need to know this information, Sammy. Let me talk to Dean."_

"_He's … not feeling well," Sam hedged, looking up at Dean, who was now getting out of bed to pull on a t-shirt. He gave Sam a thumbs-up at the excuse._

"_Is he okay?" John seemed concerned._

"_Why do you care __**now**__? We called you before, when he was hurt, and you didn't call then!" Sam almost yelled into the phone._

"_Sammy…"_

"_It's __**Sam**__, Dad."_

"…_I'm sorry."_

_Sam was quiet._

"_Two days. After dinner, at the motel." Sam said briskly, gave his father the motel name and address, and then folded his phone closed._

Now, laying in his bed in the darkened room in these early morning hours, Sam replayed the conversation in his mind several times. _Why was Dad caring __**now**__? And __**not**__ when Dean had had that heart attack, and was told he didn't have all that long to live?_ Sam was certain Dean was worried about this meeting, two nights from now. But he'd be damned if Dean were to ever admit it.

* * *

I can't believe this shit. I swore to Dad we'd find this thing that killed Mom, and where's it gotten me? I'm the very thing I've sworn to kill. It sucks, and I really don't mean that literally. While Maya is an amazing woman, she really fucked me up good. 

And to make matters worse, Sammy looks like he's scared to death of me, like I'm going to have him for my dinner or something. Maya warned me about the bloodlust, but he's my _brother_, for fuck's sake!

I've been like this for a few weeks now. There's this feeling inside, twisting, gnawing away at me. Maya says that's the hunger, which I have to feed nightly. She forgot to tell me feeding that hunger makes me horny as hell. Bitch.

And the women wherever we are, are so eager to please me, especially after I've impressed them with a few games of pool and a round or two of darts. I seem to have a hell of a time knowing when to stop drinking. But the blood coursing through me stops the aching. And I feel like shit, knowing what I've become.

That night that Dad called, I tried to act like it didn't matter to me what Dad will think of me now. Dad's done some pretty shitty things in the past several months, including trying to go it alone after the demon that killed Mom. He'd said he knew where it was, and ordered me and Sammy to stop looking for him.

I don't care what Dad thinks. I really don't.

…yes, I do.

* * *

Sam Winchester didn't scare easily. Not after all the things he'd seen and fought. There were two things that scared him the most, which were interconnected: what their father would do once he learned Dean's true nature. 

The sky was still dark when Sam was roused by the sound of the motel room door opening the morning after their dad called. Bleary-eyed, Sam watched as Dean carefully closed the door, sat down on the other bed, pull off his shoes and jacket and crawled under the covers.

"Quit staring, Sammy, I'm not going to bite you," Dean said, pulling his cell phone out of his jeans pocket and putting it on the table that was between the beds. He hadn't even glanced over at his brother watching him.

Sam was still a moment. _How did Dean – ?_ he started to think, then thought better of it, as he watched Dean pull the covers completely over his head, and sleep for the day. _It would be __**so**__ easy…_ Sam thought, not for the first time. But there was no way he'd be able to stake his own _brother_. Not even if his _life_ depended on it.

Sam tried unsuccessfully to go back to sleep, but gave up after only 30 minutes, and got out of bed. Pulling off his well-worn t-shirt, he found a relatively clean one in his bag, and realized they probably should do the laundry soon.

Grabbing the bag that contained his laptop, and taking Dean's cell phone just in case, Sam headed to the door. He glanced back at the bed, and then at the windows to make sure they would keep out the tiniest bit of sunlight. Sam sighed, not for the first time. Dean was still his brother, vampire or not. Sam left the motel room in search of a hot cup of coffee and some breakfast.

At the local coffee shop, he piggy-backed an internet hook-up from Dean's cell and logged online. While his plan was to search for articles that might lead them to another assignment, his thoughts kept returning to his brother.

Those two days Dean was missing – and Sam later learned what Dean was – were even worse than when Dean had his heart attack. Although Sam had to admit he was missing time from that first day with the red-head, but at least she was human.

When it was Sam who had gone missing not all that long ago, Dean had gone to the local deputy and enlisted her help. But as far as the law enforcement world was concerned, "Dean Winchester" had been killed in St. Louis after committing a string of murders. Looking for him would only create more questions, the biggest being if Sam's brother was Dean Winchester, who was the man who committed those crimes? Authorities would never believe Sam if he told them it was a shifter that could assume the body and memories of whoever it wanted.

They'd believe that just as likely as they'd believe Dean was now a vampire.

Before Sam had realized it, the whole day had gone by, and all he had to show for it was three articles saved on his hard drive, and a few more worry lines on his young face.

By the time he got back to their motel room, it was dark, and Dean had left for the night already. Sam was relieved that he'd missed Dean waking up. He'd made the mistake of waking Dean up once before the sun had completely set – now the reason was trivial, but then it had seemed important – and still shuddered at the sight of his brother: the long pointed incisors, making Sam seriously want to carry a stake at all times. The eerie golden eyes were what creeped him out the most.

Sam never woke Dean up early again.

It was when their father had called yesterday evening, Dean woke up early. But there were no fangs or eerie eyes. Sam wondered about that.

He also wondered if he shouldn't start carrying that stake…

* * *

When I woke up, it was just after the sun had set. I noticed Sam's laptop and my phone were probably with Sam. I wondered what he had found, if anything. Maya told me she understood that I _had_ to keep hunting, that it's who I am, what I need to do. But did she _really_ understand, or was she trying to make me believe that? 

And in 24 hours, Dad will be here, and I have no idea how the hell he'll react. He'd _ordered_ me not to go looking for him, and he knew that I couldn't disobey his orders. _Damn it, Dad, I'm different now_. Well, hell, that's not going to go over too well, is it?

I found some relatively clean clothes in my duffel, and I'd remember passing a rockin' night club a few blocks away from the motel, so I went there. I was pretty sure there'd be someone I could convince to satisfy both hungers.

The Rave was a loud place, with crappy music, and too many teenagers. I stood in the line for maybe 10 minutes before I got the door. And in that time, I think I had three dozen proposition, stares, and girls younger than Sammy trying to put their hand on me somewhere. I could hear their blood coursing, see their veins pulsing, needed so much to just sink my fangs into one of them right then. Shuddering, appalled at myself, I just smiled them, and couldn't explain why I'd bypassed them for what was behind Door Number 2.

The bouncer actually had to look down at me, I think he was taller than Sammy. I smiled my most dazzling grin, and told him I was on the list. Ok, one of the good things about this was that it enhanced my natural charm. My gaze now had what Maya called "mesmerism," where I could convince someone of anything at all, and they'd look into my eyes, and believe it to be true.

Some nights, it was worth getting up. Other nights, I felt like crap.

The bouncer nodded and waved me in. I heard the guy behind me try the same line, charm dripping like something too sticky, but the bouncer stood his ground.

"You let that other guy in," the man protested.

"He was on the list," the bouncer growled back, but turned to look after me in the club. I was already inside. Tonight was one of the good nights, I smiled to myself.

The dance floor was crowded with women wearing tight shirts and jeans riding low on their hips. There were a few guys there, some were attempting to dance, others were just feeling their dates. I noticed one woman by herself, and was transfixed.

Moving sensually with the crappy music was a tall dark-haired woman wearing one of those short skirts that looked like a piece of material fluttering in a breeze. I could see her well-toned legs, the curve under the skirt, her tight-fitting shirt, and a mass of black wavy hair. Her features reminded me of only one other person I'd ever met – Cassie. True, she'd dumped me twice, and caused me never to trust another with the secret of what Sammy and I did, but the truth – which I rarely admitted even to myself – was I missed her. We fought like the best of them, but making up was always the best part.

I made my way through the dancers to her. By the time I got to her, her back was turned, and I reached out to put my hand on her shoulder. She whirled around and looked at me. I smiled at her, and leaned into whisper in her ear.

"Dance with me?" I asked. That close to her veins, I felt my fangs start to emerge, but I sternly reminded myself I didn't want to scare her off.

She looked at me, and I was ready for her to slap me. Which she didn't, and I was pleasantly surprised. She put her hand on my cheek and brought my ear to her lips and whispered her name in my ear, Cassidy.

We danced with and against each other most of that night. As she moved her body against mine, I was reminded of an earlier time, when I was in her position, dancing with a vampire and didn't realize what was in store for me that night. While Maya hadn't tried to turn me _that_ night, I was certain she'd drank from me. I wouldn't have known it then, as she had me under her thrall. I couldn't have given a damn for all the supernatural evil in the world that night.

Throughout the night, Cassidy had many drinks, interestingly not of my prompting. Or it could have been she was already in my thrall. All I knew was I needed the blood to feed, and my jeans were becoming quite uncomfortable in front.

I'm pretty sure it was close to 2 a.m. when I nibbled on Cassidy's ear and whispered to her it was time to blow this joint. I joked about having a headache from the crappy music, but it was the truth – the music sucked all night.

She was unsteady on her feet, and I led her out to the Impala. Being the gentleman that I am, I wasn't going to let her drive drunk, so I offered to drive her home.

She said her apartment was only a few blocks away, and then appeared to think about something.

"What's wrong with your place?" she slurred.

"Don't want to wake up my brother."

"Your brother?"

I sighed. She wouldn't remember it in the morning anyway, but I told her my usual story. "We're on a road trip, and to cut our expenses, we've got a two-bed motel room at the dump down the street." I glanced over at Cassidy and smiled. She smiled back, buying anything I would have told her. I could have told her the truth, but it would figure that would be what she _did_ remember in the morning.

I parked the car, and we stumbled up the steps of her apartment. Well, she did for real, I did it mostly for show. Outside her apartment door, she leaned on my chest and rubbed up against me.

"You, uh, want to come in?" she asked me in a soft voice. She reached up and stroked my cheek. I nodded, and leaned down and kissed her soft lips. Not looking, she reached out and opened the door, breaking the kiss to lead me inside. I closed the door behind me with my boot, and shrugged off my jacket, dropped it on a chair and pulled off my shirt. I put my hands on Cassidy's waist and slowly moved her shirt up, and she helped me take it off over her head. I unhooked her bra and carelessly added that to the pile of clothes.

My hands felt rough on her smooth skin, and I kissed her lips, and moved my mouth to nibble her earlobe, and then gently trailed the tip of my tongue down the side of her neck to her pulsing vein in her neck, and the hunger wanted me to bite her then, but I wanted to wait. I could tell by the way Cassidy was moaning and pressing herself against me, she wanted more than just a kiss and a cheap feel. Hell, so did I.

We moved together into the bedroom, shoving off my jeans, her skirt and underwear. They, too, ended up on the floor as we landed together on her king-sized bed. Cassidy giggled as I kissed a sensitive spot on her shoulder. Her hands on my chest and back were sending shivers through my body, as I gently stroked her side and thigh. She moaned against my skin.

I kissed her lips again, as she wrapped her long legs around my waist. I entered her easily, as she was as ready for me as I was for her, and I shuddered at the sensations that passed through me. It had been too long. Too damn long.

We moved together with rhythms and movements that you never forget. We were kissing each other as our bodies knew what to do on their own. I lost track of the times she climaxed, and when I was ready, I forced myself to slowly kiss my way to her neck. I came the moment I sank my fangs into her soft skin, and she cried out as I felt her body shudder yet again beneath me.

I drank carefully, slowly, listening to her heartbeat. It was racing from the heat of our sex, and now it was finally slowing to almost normal. I commanded myself to stop drinking, and as my fangs withdrew, I kissed the two holes I'd made, and rolled onto the bed next to her.

Dawn was not that far off, and I had to return to the motel. I was to meet up with my dad later on, the first time since I'd changed, a meeting which I was _not_ looking forward to.

And as I watched a now-sleeping Cassidy, and covered her with her sheet before I got out of bed to get dressed, an odd feeling of actual _acceptance_ was starting to come over me. I'd never known anything but hatred for the supernatural for the past 20-some-odd years. This new… feeling… would certainly take some getting used to.

* * *

Dean quietly returned to the motel room, and quietly closed the door, undressed and crawled under the covers. Before he crashed for the day, he picked up his phone from the night stand where Sam had put it last night, and flipped it open. There were no missed calls. Like he'd expected any calls at 2 a.m. or anything. 

He glanced over at Sam's sleeping form, thankful his brother was sleeping instead of in the throes of another nightmare. Dean reckoned his brother had had enough of those for a lifetime. Closing the phone and returning it to the table between the beds, he curled up under his covers and was asleep instantly.

The sun had just begun to rise.

* * *

Sam paced nervously outside the motel room. In the first place, they'd been in the same place for three days, and he was certain Dean was starting to get restless. He knew he was. And in the second place, it was just about dusk, and their father would be arriving shortly after dark. 

Sam had spent another day searching online for articles, and jobs; and had added a new search: kids like Max, who's mom had died the same way as Sam and Dean's. Max had discovered a new-found telekinetic ability several months ago, and had almost killed Dean. It was Sam's vision – and his own telekinesis – that saved Dean. There _had_ to be others out there, like him and Dean, and Max. He just wasn't having any luck _finding_ them.

And when he saw a black pickup truck with mud caking most of the bottom of it pull into the parking lot, Sam cringed. The sun was still setting, and Dean probably wouldn't be up for another half an hour. At least.

The pick-up pulled into the parking space next to the Impala, and John Winchester got out. John was a tall man, but Sam was still taller. His father's black hair and beard had more grey in them than the last time Sam had seen him – and that was a while ago.

"Sammy," John said welcomingly. Sam just stared.

John looked around, looking for someone else.

"Where's Dean?"

"He'll be here soon. I told you to_night_, Dad," Sam said stiffly.

"Oh, Sammy, I'm so sorry I haven't been here for you, and believe me, I feel like crap for it."

"It is crap, Dad. You go missing, then you tell us not to look for you. What the _hell_ is that?"

"Look, I know I'm not the best father – "

"You got that right," Sam muttered.

"What was that, Sammy?"

"It's _Sam_."

"What did you _say_?"

"I said 'you got that right.'"

"Got _what_ right?" John's voice was calm, but Sam knew his father wanted an answer. Sam would give him an answer all right.

"That you're not the best father! Not even _close_, Dad!"

"I'm sorry you feel that way," John said, sounding truly sorry.

"Yeah, whatever, Dad."

"Where's Dean?" John asked again.

Sam moved to stand in front of the doorway to the motel room, which was finally in the shadows. Sam was actually grateful for that. "I told you."

"He's in there, isn't he?"

Sam was silent, crossing his arms over his chest.

John made a move towards the door, and Sam stepped in front of him.

"What are you hiding, Sammy?"

Sam was still quiet, still blocking his father from reaching the door. But Sam remembered the fangs, and the golden eyes; and he stepped aside.

"If you must," Sam said cryptically.

John looked at Sam out of the corner of his eye, and shrugged, wondering what the _hell_ was going on with his younger son. He tried the door handle. It was locked. He turned back to Sam.

"You have the key?"

Sam did, but he just shrugged his shoulders.

John came back over to Sam, and looked up at his defiant son. "What the hell is your game, Sammy? I want to know what the _hell_ is going on here?!"

Sam shrugged again, and smiled smugly. Something told him that his father was itching to just punch him, so he just stood there. He could take it. But he knew his father wouldn't actually do it.

John, not getting the answer he wanted, returned to the door, braced himself with his feet apart, and slammed his shoulder into the door. After two more tries, it gave way.

There was a shape on one of the beds, and then suddenly, John found he was caught by the neck in a chokehold. He turned his head to see someone that could have been Dean, but he wasn't sure. His head was yanked to the side, and he felt something wet on his neck, then a sharp pain. He felt himself weakening, and he passed out a moment later.

Dean lifted his blood-stained mouth from his father's neck as John Winchester crumpled to the ground.

Still wearing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, Dean had been awakened by the pounding on the door, and attacked before even thinking about a pair of jeans. He looked up at Sam, who just stood there, watching his older brother, partly in disgust, partly in admiration.

"You didn't… kill him?" Sam asked slowly.

"Nah," Dean said, wiping his lips on the back of his hand. He saw Sam watching him. "Sorry about that, that you had to see that."

"No," Sam said after a moment. "It's ok. Really, it is. Just, uh…" Sam moved in to the doorway. "Help me move Dad on to one of these beds."

* * *

They only got John as far as the chair where Dean had sat the other night, the night that their dad had first called. Unceremoniously dropping him in the chair, Dean stood there a moment, not liking what might happen when their father woke up. 

Sam disappeared into the bathroom briefly, and returned to the room with a glass of water, which he looked at thoughtfully before handing to Dean.

"You ready for this?" Dean asked. Sam nodded.

Dean threw the water on John, who shook his head with a start, and dried his face with his hands. He looked up at his sons, and started to stand.

"I'd stay sitting, if I were you," Dean said around his fangs. Staring at his elder son, John glared at Dean, who also stared at him with golden eyes.

"Sir," Dean felt obliged to add as a lame afterthought.

John remained seated, but on the edge of the chair. At least now he _knew_ what the hell was going on.

"I'm sorry I didn't make contact sooner, boys. It was too risky."

"Right," Dean said, intending to agree, but sounding sarcastic. John fixed Dean with another stare, and started to rise. Dean looked at Sam, who had been quiet until now.

"Dad, you told me you had important information for us," Sam said.

"Right." John looked uncomfortable, sitting in the chair, looking up at his sons. "Can I just – ?" John started to rise.

It was Sam's turn to stare. John met his younger son's gaze, and remained sitting instead.

"There's a very powerful demon out there, I've seen it's work," John started. "Its daughter is now after you boys."

The brothers looked at each other, each trying recall who that might be. Sam hit on something first.

"Meg. That creepy girl from the train station, when you went on to Indiana."

"Went on?" John interrupted, "what does that mean?"

"Don't worry about it, Dad," Sam said.

"What does it mean?" John repeated. Something occurred to him then, and he turned to Dean. "You left him alone, didn't you?" John demanded, standing up this time.

Sam, who had no intention of getting angry, suddenly felt his temper flare at what his dad was implying.

"I can take care of myself!" Sam hurled the words at his father, as he mentally hurled the older man back into the chair. John was pinned to the seat by some strange force he refused to believe came from his younger son.

"What else do you have to tell us? Anything?" Sam was visibly angry, and even Dean took a slight step away from his brother.

"You really should be on the move," John said, fighting against something he couldn't see. "Shouldn't say in one place for too long," he smiled, actually _smiled_, at them.

"Thanks, Dad," Sam said, his comment laden with sarcasm. "You could have told us that on the phone!"

John stopped straining. "I wanted to see my boys." And he smiled again.

"You saw us," Dean said, his voice deadly calm. "We got your warning. Now leave." For some odd reason, he no longer felt the urge to add "Sir," either.

John turned to look at Dean, whose fangs had retracted and now looked like the rest of his teeth. His eyes were hazel again, not eerie gold.

"I'm disappointed in you, Dean. How did you _let_ this happen? How _could_ you?"

Dean was silent, the gold returning to his gaze, with which he met his father's. Dean leaned forward to talk to his father very quietly.

"You know what, _Dad_? Yeah, you're right. I _let_ it happen," Dean said, trying hard to keep his voice from breaking. There was so much he'd seen, experienced, and battled with his father at his side; it was difficult to have to tell his father that Dean's world didn't need to depend on John Winchester at this very moment.

"I was careless, Dad. I was on my own, had too much to drink, and she was beautiful, let me tell you." He watched his father's face as it seemed to soften somewhat.

"But you know something? I learned something about myself in however long it's been. I'm pretty good on my own. Sammy and I have been fine without you, actually."

"Oh, have you?" John said, his voice surprisingly calm. "I give you an order, and it's something you need to obey, got that?"

Dean was silent, weighing his next words.

"No, I don't 'got that,' Dad. Not anymore. In fact," Dean straightened up, finally coming to a conclusion. "we're more than fine without you. I've finally accepted me this way."

At Dean's last remark, John felt the blood drain from his face. After all he'd taught them, to give it all up? John looked from one son to the other. Sam seemed just as comfortable with what his brother had become as Dean did.

"You've seen your boys," Dean said, interrupting John's thoughts, in that same calm tone. "Now it's time to leave. We've stayed here three days; that's two too long according to you."

John tried to stand, but couldn't. Dean glanced over at his brother.

"Let him up, Sammy."

"I – I can't," Sam said, puzzled.

"Think of something else," Dean suggested. "Like, you listening to whatever you want in the car tomorrow."

Sam smiled at that thought, and the hold on John was released. John stood slowly, his eyes never leaving his sons' faces.

"I'll be in touch more often, boys," he said, promising.

"Don't bother," said Sam. The force of Sam's emotion caused the door to fly open into the room.

John looked from one son to the other. Something had happened in the time they'd been apart. Something… _evil_. He shook his head sadly, purposely turned around, paused a brief moment in the doorway, and then left through the opening.

* * *

Sam and I left the motel shortly after Dad did. I'd like to think we'd said everything we'd wanted to, but I was sure there was more. Dad's a complicated person. And I just made it worse. 

Sam drove for a bit, because I'd promised him he could, and whatever the rock music he had playing on the radio really wasn't all that bad. Sometime around midnight, Sam pulled over, turned off the car, and handed me the car keys. He got in the passenger seat.

The last few days were tough on Sammy, dealing with Dad most of the time. But I admire him, for being as strong as he was. I'll admit, I was a little freaked out when he pinned Dad to the chair like that, but Dad pissed Sam off. Which is something I learned not to do. I mean, he told me he'd moved that cabinet that had locked him in the cupboard at the Miller's, and yeah, I joked about it, but this some serious shit he's got going on.

I really had no idea where we were going, but I was certain we'd find something. We always did. I turned out on to the road, and headed south. In less than five minutes, Sam was asleep.

I managed to find my tapes, and pick one at random. Whatever it was, I hoped it didn't wake Sammy. He needed his sleep too. I popped it in, and was greeted by Geoff Tate's haunted voice and lyrics.

"_And I raise my head and stare into the eyes of a stranger; I've always known that the mirror never lies_."

My eyes were still strange to me these days. And while I know that Dad's not going to make _me_ his next assignment, he's going to be watching out for me. What I told him _was_ true: I had finally accepted what I was. Maya would be proud. It was the toughest conflict I'd faced, the one inside me. But I knew there could be no turning back, no returning to what I was before.

Without realizing it, I found myself singing with Geoff. "_People always turn away from the eyes of a stranger, afraid to know what lies behind the stare_."

If there was one thing I learned from Dad, whether he realized I'd learned it or not, it was to look at the situation from all angles, and see what can be used to the best advantage. Between me and Sammy, we had _at least_ two advantages against whatever supernatural evil came our way.

* * *

Supernatural Alternate Universe Fan Fiction  
For entertainment only  
© 2006 by Trystan  
Only Maya and Cassidy are original. "Can't Deny It," by Screaming Guitars was created by the author. Beta-read by Athena and Aurora; Athena wrote a few lines, and the title. Dean, Sam, John and Mary Winchester, Cassie Robinson, Max Miller and Meg were created by Eric Kripke, Robert Singer, Kripke Enterprises Scrap Metal and Entertainment; and Warner Brothers. "Eyes of a Stranger" from "Operation: Mindcrime" by Queensryche; Geoff Tate, lead vocals ©1988. 

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